Perils of Swoop Racing
by Alexandra3
Summary: Anything can go wrong while swoop racing. On Taris the bike exploded. Tatooine had those pesky sand people. And Manaan is covered in water...
1. Taris

Despite the high regard that the racing world had for the Taris swoop track, it was nothing special by circuit standards. Certainly one of the more difficult in the galaxy, it had strategically placed booster pads along the route as well as an unusually high amount of debris scattered along the track. As another unfortunate racer mistimed a shift and crashed, it quickly became obvious where all the debris came from.

Lethe Kast turned away from the view screens and watched as the mechanic made last minute adjustments to the swoop she was going to be using. The prototype accelerator now integrated into the bike was her best chance at winning. . .and dying. No matter how hard she had tried, she couldn't get the idea of an exploding engine out of her mind. She would just have to hope it didn't explode–at least not before she could get far enough away.

The truth was that she felt rather sick. After barely sleeping last night and being unable to keep anything down for breakfast–not to mention the healing wounds from the Vulkar base–Lethe was certainly not at her best. If she could, she would wait until she was healed, rested and confident in her own abilities. But there was a lot depending on this race and there was no other option. She needed to win in order to rescue Bastila and then find a way off of Taris before they were discovered by the Sith.

Lethe's stomach rolled again and she forced her nerves to settle down. There was too much at stake to lose focus. She was the only person that could do this, no matter how much she might protest. Never mind that the last time she had ridden a swoop she had ended up in a spectacular crash that nearly paralyzed her. Never mind that her best friend had died on that same track only moments later. Never mind that she was terrified of failing and then damning the whole Republic because she couldn't come through on one simple task.

Lethe grit her teeth and banished those thoughts of doubt to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to worry about her self-confidence issues. Carth was counting on her. And she would not let him down. Feigning self-assurance, she walked towards her swoop and pulled her helmet on. She could do this. She _had_ to do this.

Once the bike was in place and she was seated upon it, Lethe clenched her jaw and focused straight ahead. She blocked out the offending noise of the spectators. She focused instead on the feel of the swoop beneath her, automatically interpreting the vibrations from the machine. Her eyes barely glanced at the gages on the swoop as her knuckles turned white. The seedy, underground world of Taris fell away until she was only aware of herself, the swoop, the track and the three signal lights ahead of her.

The moment that the green light had flashed she hit the acceleration. Despite her rusty skills and her complete reluctance, she was a natural swoop racer. While always keeping an eye on the bike's condition itself, she instinctively calculated the distance between booster pads and plotted courses that would successfully maneuver through the debris. She knew when to shift at the right moment and when she should skip a pad because it was too far off course. Her instincts had always served her well.

The brief moments of the race became only a blur as she rocketed across the finish and she eased back on the controls. Every misgiving and fear had disappeared as her subconscious took control of her reflexes. When her heat ended and Lethe took a conscious breath, she was almost shocked to realize that it was over. She had survived the race and with a leading time.

Lethe pried her hands off of the handles, wincing as she straightened out each finger. She climbed off of the bike, allowing the technicians to cart it back to the waiting area. When she finally had a moment to breathe, she closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. She told herself that she was fine. Every worry that had gone dormant at the start of the race, assaulted her once again and she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her heart race within her.

"I better not have to do that again," she whispered, trying to calm herself. The swoop would be able to withstand another race, but she wasn't so sure that she would be able to.

Trailing behind the swoop, Lethe actually began to feel relief and almost lighthearted. She had faced her fears and succeeded. It was an enormous boost to her confidence and she looked forward to showing up at the apartment with Bastila in tow. In her mind, she would be greeted with shock and delight that she had succeeded. Bastila would say that she would never have been able to escape without her. Carth would praise her skills and her talent, all the while looking adoringly in her direction. Lethe would blush under all the congratulation and try to downplay her part in things, while inwardly glowing. At that moment, they would figure out a way to get off Taris and defeat Malak. And none of it would have been possible without her.

Lethe was rather violently shaken from her daydreams when the mechanic told her that her time had been beaten and she would have to race again. As if on cue, her stomach tightened and the nausea returned. Cursing furiously in her head, she took a moment to gather her wits and stare at Bastila. The woman needed her help. She would need to get through it.

Clenching her fists at her side, she stalked up to the race organizer and signed up for another heat. Her swoop was transported again to the starting line and she checked the strap on her helmet again. The mechanic was spouting off some cautionary advice in her ear, but she was too annoyed and nervous to pay much attention. She tried to remind herself that she had made it through the last one and that this would be no different.

Just as before, the outer world faded to her conscious mind as she became only aware of the swoop and the track. She sped forward when the light signaled the start and expertly wove through the course, easily exceeding the speeds of her last run.

As the end of the course drew closer, she became more aware of the state of the swoop she was riding. Her eyes glanced down to take in the gages and immediately widened. Everything was redlining and starting to fail. The bike shuddered and the acrid smell of burned wiring came to her nose as smoke began to billow out of the engine. It was overheating. Lethe could see the finish drawing closer and she mentally calculated how long she had. The swoop became harder to control as it began to break down. She fought to keep the bike steady as she blasted over another booster pad.

The added speed proved to be too much for the swoop. The exact moment that she screamed over the finish line, Lethe threw herself from the bike. The swoop exploded an instance later, the engine fried and the machine nothing more than a twisted heap of metal that sailed into a restraining wall before crumpling to the track, still smoking.

Lethe skidded along the ground, the helmet and leathers she wore protecting her somewhat. She rolled with the momentum as much as she could, trying to remember everything she had ever learned about what to do in a crash. She pulled upon her very will to protect her body from the harsh ground when she hit hard. With the wind knocked out of her, Lethe couldn't even move when she finally came to a halt, piles of flaming wreckage around her.

It was several long minutes that she lay there, dimly taking stock of her body. It would appear that she had miraculously not broken anything. The jump suit was in absolute shreds in certain areas, mainly around her right thigh–where she had first landed. The rest of her was certainly bruised and bloody, but her thigh was the worst. She slowly reached a hand up and pushed her helmet off so she could breathe easier, briefly noting that it was now cracked in half.

Voices were approaching and she managed a small smile when the mechanic shoved his head into her field of vision. Her head was pounding too much at the moment to understand what he was saying, but she could make a guess at it.

"I'm fine. . .I think. Actually, let me get back to you on that."

The mechanic laughed and reached down a hand to help her up. Lethe struggled to her feet, swaying once she was upright. Cheers rang in her ears from the other racers and the distant crowd, shouting their approval at her stunt. She dumbly raised her hand and gave a small wave of acknowledgment; she finally seemed to realize that she really was alive. And, what was more, she had gotten an unbeatable time.

Leaving the technicians and other track staff to worry about the bike, Lethe limped back to the starting area. She had won, fair and square–she had the injuries to prove it. Now all she wanted to do was get Bastila and get the hell off of Taris.

Of course, things were never as easy as she wanted them to be. When Brejik claimed that she cheated and refused to hand over the captive Jedi, Lethe knew she was going to have to fight her way out of the situation. Though her head throbbed, blood soaked her skin and hair and her leg threatened to give out at any moment, she grabbed two vibroblades and prepared to show Brejik her way. Swoop racing may not be her thing–but swords were.

* * *

Lethe shouted and batted Carth's hands away. "That fracking hurts!"

Carth ignored her attempts to avoid him and held her down with one hand. "Will you stop squirming! Of course it hurts, it's deep and half the skin is ripped away. If you don't hold still, I'll have to knock you out so I can treat it better."

Lethe bit her lip and shoved her face into the pillow on the bed she was laying on. Contrary to what her daydreams had suggested, nothing had gone smoothly. She fought Brejik and the others he had brought with him. Bastila had freed herself and fought Brejik as well. When they were all dead, Bastila and Lethe had actually fought over who had rescued whom. They had then quickly escaped–or at least as quickly as Lethe's injuries would allow. As soon as they entered the apartment, Carth had nearly assaulted Lethe with his worry and forced her to lie down.

Which lead to the current moment. Mission and Zaalbar, after greeting her with relief, now sat quietly at the table playing pazaak, trying to ignore the cries of pain coming from their friend. Bastila, after stealing some of Lethe's extra clothes, was meditating in the corner.

Lethe cried out again and tried to shove her face further into the pillow. Carth was trying to be as gentle as he could, but the wound on her thigh was extensive and they only had so many supplies. He had tried to convince her to go see the doctor, but Lethe wouldn't be surprised if there were some gang members lurking the streets, looking for her. Which meant they would be confined to their apartment, at least for the rest of the day.

It was several long minutes before Lethe realized that most of the pain had faded and only a slight ache remained. She could feel Carth's hands on her thigh, applying bandages to the wound. If she had been more coherent, she would have been acutely embarrassed that he was seeing so much of her skin. As it was, the motions were more soothing than anything and she was too tired to really care.

Slowly, she turned her head out of the pillow and let her eyes rest on the man bent over her, concentrating on healing her. A small smile came across her lips. Even though she had only known Carth for a short while, she was dangerously attracted to him. She might have to find another swoop track in the future, if only to get some similar attention from him.

Carth glanced over and noticed her eyes on him, blankly staring. "Lethe?"

Lethe blinked and shook her head. "What?"

Carth frowned and leaned closer to her. Her eyes widened as she watched him come closer, stopping inches from her face. He was staring intently at her and Lethe was more disconcerted than anything. "Wh-what?" He reached out and grasped her chin, carefully turning her head in either direction, his eyes always on hers. "Carth, what the hell are you doing?"

He sighed and finally let go of her. "I was trying to see if you had a concussion. I wouldn't be surprised, considering how hard you hit the ground, but it seems you might be okay. At least if you did, the symptoms have faded." He settled himself on the side of the bed, his face still a mask of concern. "I've done all I can, I'm afraid. I would feel a lot better if you went to the doctor."

Lethe shook her head. "Not tonight. There's too great a chance that someone will be looking for us with the intent to kill. Maybe tomorrow, but not now." She took a moment to yawn deeply. "Besides, I don't think I would be able to make it."

Carth shrugged resignedly. "Have it your way. You should sleep, you've had a rough day."

Lethe shook her head again. "No, there's too much to do. I'll sleep when I'm dead." She struggled to sit up but Carth forcefully pushed her back on the bed.

"You almost died today. Let me worry about everything for a while. You get some sleep, you need it."

Lethe frowned. "You already worry about everything."

Carth rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Rest, Lethe. No more riding swoops for you."

Lethe chuckled and let her head fall back on the pillow, closing her eyes. "No problem there." She felt herself begin to drift, listening to the soft sound of the others in the apartment. A blanket was draped over her and rough fingers gently brushed against her cheek. Then footsteps retreated from the bed, followed by the soft murmur of voices.

Lethe tried to keep from smiling. _At least the aftermath of swoop racing has some bright points._

_

* * *

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AN: I just wanted to thank everyone for all of your reviews! I appreciate everything you say and I especially like any constructive criticism you can give. Feedback is certainly the highlight of my day! Now, I know I've been offline for a while (thanks to no Internet access), but I'm back now. I discovered this gathering dust on my hard drive, so I decided to post it for your enjoyment. Depending on what you think, there might be two more installments with Tatooine and Manaan. So please leave me a review! Thanks again! Alexandra_  
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	2. Tatooine

"Don't do it."

Lethe looked up from where she was fixing the stabilizer on the swoop. Carth was standing at the door, his arms crossed over his chest and an unreadable expression on his face. Lethe frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Stay off the track, don't race."

Lethe sighed and turned her attention back to the stabilizer. "Carth, I have to. We need the money."

"No." She looked up again at the vehemence in his voice. He was shaking his head and stepped closer to her. "We can find other ways to get the money for the droid. You don't have to risk your life for this."

"The only other ways to get such a large amount of credits is to shake people down or go slaughter some unfortunate Sand People. I don't want to do either. This is the best option. And I'm not risking my life, I'll be fine."

"You weren't fine last time."

Lethe stopped working and sat back on her haunches. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her eyes, silently reliving the memories of the Taris run. She remembered her fear before riding. Then how it had all faded away once she had sat on that swoop. Most of all though, she remembered crashing and the pain that came with it. She had had a lingering limp for a week afterwards. "No, I wasn't. But we don't have a defective swoop this time. You don't have to worry Carth, I'm going to be careful. I've seen enough people die at the tracks for me to be cautious; I don't intend to add my body to the list."

Carth frowned at this statement, apparently able to pick up on the subtle regret in her voice. "Lethe, I know you never wanted to ride the swoop. And I can tell you would rather not now. What happened to you that you would turn away from a sport that you are so obviously good at?"

The Jedi looked at the pilot, aware of his curious, yet caring gaze. They had become close over the last few months. After their adventures on Kashyyyk and Korriban, the trust between them was strong. He had told her about his life and the tragedies within it; it was only fair that she told him about one of her hardest moments. She sat on the floor and idly began to twirl a hydrospanner between her fingers. Carth wordlessly settled down next to her, but she kept her eyes on the tool.

"When I was a teenager, Deralia built a brand new swoop track in the hopes of bringing tourism and revenue back to the planet. But instead of demolishing the old one, which had begun to deteriorate and fall into disrepair, they simply left it and put the new track in a high traffic area. Needless to say that the old track became the source of countless underground races and illegal activities.

"Ameles was my best friend. And though we were some of the youngest swoop racers, we were still some of the best. Because of our age, we weren't allowed to legally participate in the main races on the new track, so we founded our reputation on the old track. . .and made quite a few credits at it too.

"We were both set to ride in the underground championship. It was more publicized than the legal races and was going to be the most exciting event in a decade. The reason it was so talked about was because it was supposed to be different than normal races–instead of staggering runs, all of the riders would go at the same time. It was dangerous and unheard of, but that was what made it appealing to crowds. The challenge is what made it appealing to riders."

Lethe paused for a second, if only to gather herself for continuing the story. She hadn't told anyone in years and she was surprised to feel tears threatening. "The race finally came and every underground rider that could scrape together the entrance fee was there. Even a few of the most inexperienced had gathered the courage to participate. There were almost two dozen of us all told, far too many for the track to safely accommodate. But the race went on anyway."

She paused again, taking the time to hastily swipe at her eyes. "I don't remember a whole lot of the race. I know with everyone jockeying for position and some stopping at nothing to win, the entire run was a veritable deathtrap. Ameles and I were with the second cluster of riders, choosing to wait for an opportunity rather than fight for position early. Someone in the first group, one of the amateurs I think, lost control and crashed. He took almost everyone done with him in a flurry of flames and scrap metal.

"It was right in the middle of the track. We couldn't do anything about it, not at the speeds we were going at. I tried to swerve, but I ended up in the wreck like everyone else. I broke my back in the crash. And shrapnel from my bike almost severed my spine as well. I was unconscious instantly. Ameles though, wasn't quite as lucky. She was in the middle of the pack and hit a booster pad right before the pileup. She had no where to go. With the added speed. . .she was dead before her bike had fully exploded. I heard about it only after I woke up in a kolto tank a week later. Only after months of physical therapy and kolto treatments was I able to walk again. Ameles never got another chance."

Lethe fell into silence, tears silently coursing down her cheeks. Even after all these years, it hurt to recall that day on the track. She had almost lost her life then. It was why she hated swoop racing now and was terrified of it. But she didn't have a choice. She needed to save Bastila on Taris. And now she needed the money. It was the only way, her past encounters be damned.

She started when a pair of arms went around her, pulling her closer to a warm body. Lethe turned her face into Carth's shoulder, desperately trying to stifle her sobs. She had been unconscious for the funeral and had never truly mourned her friend as a result. Though she had not intended to, she did so now as she wept.

Eventually, her tears stopped and she regained control of herself. Lethe wiped her face in embarrassment, her eyes on the ground as she leaned away from Carth. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to see that. Even though it happened years ago, I guess I never really got over it. Look, I'm going to finish fixing the stabilizer then I'm going to the track."

She tried to stand up, but Carth grabbed her hand and pulled her back. She kept her eyes averted until he gently touched her face. When she finally met his gaze, she was surprised to find only concern and understanding. "Lethe, I wish there's something I could say or do to make this better. You should never feel sorry for telling me something, I would never condemn you, especially not for something like this. I'm glad you told me. I just wish there was more I could do than say I'm sorry."

Lethe smiled softly, touched by the sincerity in his voice. "You listened to me. That was enough. Thank you Carth. Now I really do have to work on that stabilizer."

He sighed but didn't let go of her hand. "No, beautiful, please. Are you sure about this? We will find another way, I promise."

She shook her head. "No, I'm going to do this. Things are a lot safer now anyway, I'll be fine. Don't worry, it's our best option." She leaned forward to kiss his cheek but he turned his head suddenly and her lips landed on his own.

They froze for only a moment in shock, before their lips moved, gently caressing each other. Her eyes fell closed, acutely aware of Carth's body next to hers. The kiss was short, but tender. Lethe pulled away first, her blush extremely pronounced. Unable to look at Carth, she quickly stood and moved to the swoop bike, focusing her attention on the stabilizer. Her motions were mechanical though, as she trained all of her senses on the movement behind her, waiting to see what he would do.

After several minutes, she heard Carth stand. He walked over to her and stopped, apparently waiting for her to acknowledge him. When she didn't, he laid a hand on her arm to get her attention. Lethe straightened and turned to face him, willing the blush that was still evident to go away. He smiled, but only said, "I'm going to come with you. You're not doing this alone."

Touched more than she wanted to admit, Lethe nodded. Her eyes followed him as he left the room. As the Jedi turned back to the bike, she had to wonder just what it was about that man that put her in knots.

* * *

It was only when Lethe was sitting on the starting line that she began to have second thoughts. It was all well and good for Carth to say he was coming with her and for Jolee to tag along as well; but the fact was that she was the only one who could ride the swoop.

She pushed her anxiety out of her mind, focusing instead on the bike and the upcoming race, nothing else. Given that the track was out in the open, the sand was going to be a problem. The wind was running unhindered along the dunes, whipping up small sand storms. Lethe checked again that all of her skin was covered so as not to be exposed to the stinging grains of sand.

She tightened the strap on her helmet and grasped the handles, her hands sweating inside of her gloves. The swoop vibrated beneath her, primed and ready to go. She had run over every aspect of the bike before bringing it to the track, not wanting it to blow up on her. Once she had been satisfied that she would be safe riding it–which was not something she would admit easily–she signed up for a race. Now she sat on the bike, muscles tense and adrenaline pumping as her eyes stared at the lights.

Red. She would be careful, she didn't want a repeat of Deralia. Or Taris, for that matter. Jolee could patch her up if she needed it. But she wouldn't need it, the swoop was fine and she had the Force now.

Yellow. They would be one step closer to finding the Star Map once the race was over. And she would never have to ride a swoop again. Not unless she wanted some of that special attention from Carth. Of course, after that kiss–

Green.

Lethe gunned the engine and the swoop jumped forward. All thought disappeared and her mind instantly set to calculating distances, speeds, winds, glares and every possible thing that might effect the performance of the swoop. The sand pelted her as she flew over the ground, turning her once dark leathers brown.

She expertly maneuvered the bike from one side of the track to the other. It performed so much better than the one she had ridden on Taris, even better than her model back on Deralia. It was smooth and didn't jolt or shudder every time she hit a booster. Her shifting was seamless as she changed gears, the bike responding at the slightest touch.

Her eyes darted between the gages, mentally comparing the numbers she saw with what was within an acceptable range. What was most important to her though: the bike wasn't overheating, which was very significant given the hot Tatooine sun.

She soon burst over the finish line and eased back on the controls, thrilled to have gotten through the race and with an acceptable time too. Once the bike came to a stop, she pried her hands off the controls, sat back, and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She had done it. She actually giggled in her moment of relief, so happy to still be alive. She climbed off the bike and followed as the techs started to cart it back to the starting line.

She would have to race again, but she didn't mind so much anymore. She sent a message ahead that she wanted to do another heat immediately, while she was still loose. She raised her hand in front of her face and noticed that her fingers were cramped from where she had gripped the controls too tightly. Well, maybe loose wasn't the right word to use.

Lethe was glad that she still wore her helmet; that way the crowds couldn't see the dumb grin plastered on her face. She could do this. One more race shouldn't be a problem, right?

Red. This was her way of proving that she was truly past Deralia. It was a part of her life certainly, but she reasoned that Ameles wouldn't want her to live in fear of what she had once loved most. This was her way of proving to Ameles that she would not be made held back.

Yellow. She was proving to Carth too that she could do this. She probably should have stopped in and said something to him though, he must be worried about her. After the race she would–

Green.

The bike shot ahead with her firmly seated on it, as if she and the swoop were one entity. There was hardly any delay between what her mind wanted to happen and what the bike did. She thought of avoiding a piece of debris and it was done before she could blink. The shift meter never turned red for more than a moment, so swiftly did she shift between gears.

The feel of sand peppering her leathers barely registered in her mind as she flew through the open track. The sun reflected off of several piles of scrap metal along the track, sending chaotic light rays into the eyes of the rider. But she kept her seat and moved past the dangerous spots. Her eyes were always moving, never able to be blinded by solitary beams. In her mind, it felt that she and the bike were the same; and sun and sand did not effect cold metal.

Just as before, she exploded over the finish line, shaving off several significant seconds from her time. Lethe was ecstatic. She had earned them the credits they needed and the horrors from her past swoop experiences were no longer pertinent. She felt oddly immortal in that moment. She climbed off the bike, unable to resist the temptation to wave towards the sounds of cheers. If she weren't careful, she might get an ego over this.

Lethe turned to the track, examining it one last time. She noted the height of the sun and watched the small sand storms playing along the ground. The wind blew spare scraps of refuse across the track, highlighting the emptiness of the area. A small group of dunes to the west was throwing shadows across the ground as the sun moved steadily downward. She analyzed the conditions and came to the conclusion that one more time couldn't hurt.

She sent ahead the message that she wanted to race once more and try to become the champion. She could do it. She was truly over her fear now. Things had gone perfectly, she had nothing to worry about.

Red. She could win. She could become the champion of Tatooine. People might actually ask for her holoprint. All of the people that would look up to her–a woman once terrified of swoop racing and now the best at the sport. That had to be worth something.

Yellow. And Carth. Carth would be so proud of her. She had broken up all over him earlier and he would be thrilled she had moved past her reservations. He would grin and pull her into his arms, leaning down–

Green.

Lethe let the engines go. She didn't hold back at all as she hit every booster pad, avoided every piece of debris and fairly demolished the track records. She wanted to make an impression and she certainly was going to. The sun was starting to set anyway, letting the shadows of the dunes grow longer. One shadow was more jagged than the others, showing that something rested on top of the sand. . .

She felt a disturbance in the Force before it happened. But there was nothing she could do, not at the speeds she was going. Her lightsabers were back with Jolee and she couldn't gather the Force to her in time to ward off any danger. She was an open target to one lone Sand Person with a long range rifle.

The bullet reached her before the sound did. She screamed as the small piece of metal entered her right shoulder, shattering the bone before lodging in her skin. It was a crude weapon, but still effective. It was good that she flew over the finish a moment later, because her right arm now hung uselessly at her side, unable to grip the controls.

Lethe used every bit of strength she had to bring the swoop to a stop, desperately trying to quell the pain in her shoulder. She hunched forward on the bike, reaching her left arm around to clutch at the bloody wound. She gently probed it with the Force, testing the extent of the damage. The bullet was still in her shoulder, and she couldn't heal herself with it still there, ready to infect the wound. Any movement of her arm was nothing more than blinding pain and she gasped.

"Guess I should have quit while I was ahead," she muttered darkly, voice thick with tears. Techs and other staff rushed over to her, jabbering in a dozen different languages. She let them help her off the bike, crying out whenever her arm was jolted. She walked slowly back to the prep area in a haze of agony, her hand trying to staunch the bleeding without jarring the bone too much.

The door to the enclosed space flew open before she got there and Carth and Jolee ran out, the worry and relief pouring off of them. "Lethe!" Carth exclaimed, skidding to a stop next to her. "What happened?"

Lethe grit her teeth, desperately willing the pain to stop. "Some Sand Person decided to use me for target practice I guess. Force this hurts. Fraking swoops."

They entered into the enclosed room, empty except for a medic waiting on hand. Jolee waved the man away and took the supplies himself, intending to treat her. Lethe shuffled over to a table and used a chair to help her sit on it. She winced every time her arm moved. Carth followed her, ready to help if needed.

"Carth, can you get my helmet off? It's too dark in here otherwise." He nodded and unhooked the strap then carefully eased the casing off of her. Though her voice had been rather steady, it was clear that she was in a lot of pain from her face, which still had tears coursing down it. She took a deep breath of dusty air and promptly began coughing. Her arm jolted with the movement and she swayed when unconsciousness threatened.

"Lethe!" Carth shouted. He grabbed her face, waiting until her eyes were focused on his. "You need to stay awake Lethe, at least until we've got the wound cleaned up." He paused and frowned. "Why didn't you just heal yourself?"

She shook her head, the motion more difficult with Carth's hands on her face. "Couldn't. The bullet is still in there."

Jolee cursed from the other side of the room and hurriedly brought over the medical supplies. "Why didn't you say so? That needs to come out now."

Lethe rolled her eyes, though the nausea that attacked her then proved that that was not a good idea. "I know that."

Jolee glared at her. "Don't you use that tone with me missy. You're the one not using your entire brain right now. I'm going to have to cut away the arm of your leathers, so take your hand away from the wound. Then we'll get to the bullet."

The old Jedi took out a small blade. Lethe braced herself, shutting her eyes tightly. He cut from her neck, under her arm and then back up to her neck again, making an odd oval incision. Once that was done, Jolee gently peeled away the edge of the leathers and then paused when he got near the wound. "I would do this quickly if I could, but I have to be careful not to jar the arm too much. This is going to hurt."

Lethe grit her teeth. "Just do it." She clenched her jaw, tensing for the pain that was about to come. She turned her face into Carth's chest as Jolee began to pull the ruined leathers away from her wound and down her arm. Though her mouth remained closed, she still screamed in pain.

She was beginning to feel light-headed. Her vision was swimming in and out of focus. Vaguely, she could hear Carth talking to her, trying to keep her conscious. She knew it was a losing battle though. She watched as Jolee picked up a long metal tool with some sort of clamp on the end of it. His mouth moved, though she couldn't understand the words. He inserted the instrument into her shoulder. Pain blossomed in her mind and she let the darkness take her.

* * *

The pain was the first thing she noticed when she woke up. It was nowhere near the intensity of earlier, but there was still a dull ache in her shoulder. She slowly became aware of the fact that she was laying on a bed, most likely her bunk in the _Ebon Hawk_. Someone sighed next to her and rough fingers brushed across her cheek.

Lethe cracked open her eyes to see Carth sitting on the edge of her bunk, his fingers those she had felt. He smiled in relief. "Hey beautiful. Nice to see you awake."

She groaned and stretched, wincing as she stretched her right arm. "What happened?"

"You fainted when Jolee was working on you."

Lethe stared at him, incredulous. "I don't faint."

Carth chuckled. "Hate to tell you this, but you do. Jolee got the metal out and then healed you. He says that mending broken bones are harder, so you're going to be kind of sore for a few days."

She pushed herself up to a sitting position and gingerly tested her shoulder, rotating it and twisting it. The ache intensified and she let her arm fall back to her side. Carth's hand had fallen from her face and she grasped it with her left hand. She sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. "I really thought that I was over my fear. I felt like nothing could touch me."

Carth squeezed her hand. "You couldn't have known that you were going to be shot at. As worried as I get when you're out there, I'm glad you faced your fear, even if it didn't have the best results. Still, I think it would be best for my sanity if you don't ride any more swoops."

"No problem there," she said, grinning.

Carth rolled his eyes. "You said that on Taris too."

Lethe chuckled. "Don't worry Carth, I highly doubt I would willingly climb onto a swoop bike again. Besides, I don't think there could be another reason to. I'll stay on the ground, I promise."

He watched her for a moment before nodding. He then raised his free hand and cupped her cheek before he leaned forward and kissed her. She couldn't help but sigh into the kiss, leaning into his body. She raised her arms, intending to wind them around his neck, but her shoulder protested. She gasped and jerked away, glaring at her shoulder.

Carth chuckled ruefully. "You need to rest your shoulder. Have Jolee look at it later, okay? Get some more rest beautiful, I'll go see about that droid." He squeezed her hand one more time before he rose from the bed and left the dormitory. Lethe's eyes followed him as he left. She realized that she once again had a dumb smile on her face, though for an entirely different reason this time.

Lethe tested her arm again. She really did have to stay off of swoops. . .regardless of how much she may look forward to the recovery.

* * *

Hope everyone is enjoying this. I had writer's block on another story and so this was the product. Tried something a little different, but I think it all worked out. Thanks of course, for all of the reviews. And points to whoever can tell me the meaning of Ameles... you guys should know none of my names are meaningless! Anyway, let me know what you think! Thanks again for reading! Alexandra 


	3. Manaan

Revan sat alone on a bench in a courtyard on Manaan. She was hunched over, her elbows resting on her knees. Her dull eyes stared bleakly at the racing helmet clasped in her hands. She watched the raindrops splatter on the reflexive surface, obscuring her broken reflection. The longer she looked, the more she was able to see the heinous creature that stared back at her.

Tearing her eyes from the helmet, she looked out at the endless ocean before her and leaned back. The pouring rain ran down her cheeks, mingling with the tears that leaked from her eyes. Loose strands of hair clung to her pale skin, framing her gaunt face. She may be physically alive, but anyone who looked in her eyes would see nothing more than a shade.

This Jedi and former Sith Lord was a broken woman. She had been ripped in two at the revelation of her previous identity. Everything she once took as the truth shattered into deceitful lies. Now she could not recall a memory without examining it for what it truly was. . .did it belong to Revan, or to the fictional Lethe? Was it there to teach her a lesson and mold her to the Jedi Council's ways? Or was it the echo of an atrocity from Revan's past? She couldn't trust anything anymore, not even who she used to be.

Revan coughed, shivering slightly in the freezing rain. She had lost track of how long she had been sitting there, endlessly staring. She had needed to escape from the crew and everyone watching her. She couldn't take Mission's trust, or Zalbaar's loyalty. She couldn't handle Jolee's concern or HK's joy at his dark master's return. And she certainly couldn't handle Carth's hatred. So she left the _Hawk _and took the swoop with her.

The racing mechanics were waiting for her, she knew. No one raced during weather like this–it just was not a good idea. It wasn't that it was dangerous or could cause accidents, it was the fact that such high winds and unpredictable visibility brought in slower times: it wasn't practical. But Revan didn't care. She was good at racing, she could forget everything when she felt the swoop beneath her–she could escape from herself.

She methodically checked the leathers she wore, ready to get out on the track. Water streamed off her figure when she finally stood from the bench. Briefly, she remembered the false memory of Ameles and her death while swoop racing. Without the ghost of this fabricated friend hanging over her, she didn't fear the track any longer.

With one deep breath, she pulled on her helmet. She turned and walked to where her swoop was waiting at the starting line. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had promised Carth that she would never get on a swoop again, right after her disaster on Tatooine. But he had also promised her that he would never condemn her for telling him the truth. It would seem that promises were only made to be broken.

Resolutely, she climbed onto the bike and checked the gauges. She could feel it vibrating beneath her, waiting to jump forward at her command. She readjusted her grip on the slick controls, settling herself confidently in the seat. This was something she could do. This was something that she had control over. In that moment, she didn't care about any of the consequences–she just wanted to get away.

The lights above her flashed green and she gunned the engine, leaving the safety of the small hanger and entering the track on the open ocean. Immediately the bike became buffeted by large winds, forcing her to work to adjust her course every moment. Her muscles tensed as she struggled to adhere to the track and stay seated. Spray constantly kicked up and drenched her, chilling her further and obscuring her vision.

The bike whined in protest when she shot over a booster pad. It hadn't been properly maintenanced in weeks and the various neglected parts strained to perform. The swoop shuddered as it fought with both the winds and the desires of the pilot. Revan gritted her teeth and hunched lower over the controls, trying to make herself more aerodynamic.

A sudden gale almost caused her to clip an obstacle and she cursed as she fought to correct her course. She had missed the last booster pad because of that sudden change and she was already paying for the lack of speed. The swoop's engine made an odd puttering noise as it became doused in a wave of spray. Steam hissed from the heated metal and streamed into her face, clouding her view.

It was during that moment of distraction that the Force became alive around her. A pulse of anger and insanity rushed over her senses, originating from somewhere far below her and the ocean's surface. Revan's concentration broke as she listened to the dark currents speaking to her through the Force. Then another gale swept over her bike and she collided with an obstacle before she could react.

Revan flew from the blazing swoop and crashed into the water. All the air rushed from her lungs as her ribs cracked under the impact. Dazed by the crash, she found herself unable to move or breathe–she was at the mercy of the ocean. Her ribs protested any movement and she had no air to sustain herself. She slowly opened her eyes to see the surface of the ocean above her, gradually getting farther away. Her body began to numb as the chill of the ocean waters set in.

Idly, Revan wondered if this was how she was to die, drowned by her own foolish actions. She didn't think the galaxy would mourn her–hell, she wouldn't mourn herself. No longer fighting, Revan could only close her eyes and let the depths take her.

* * *

Death wasn't supposed to hurt–at least, she didn't think so. Surely if she were dead, she would not feel so wretched. Her entire body was sore and it was excruciatingly painful to breath. She felt like a rancor had sat on her head with the way it was throbbing. Her body protested her small movements and she whimpered. 

"You're not dead, but I'm sure you wish you were." Revan cracked open her eyes and turned her head to the side. Jolee sat in a chair next to her bed, his disapproving gaze on her. "The Selkath were nice enough to drag you out of the ocean for no charge. That was one of the most foolish things I have ever seen you do."

Revan snorted. "That must really be saying something coming from you."

Jolee was hardly amused. He shook his head. "Lass, sometimes it amazes me how dense you can be; your skull is thicker than a wraid plate. What were you thinking, deciding to swoop race?"

She sighed. "I needed to get away for a while."

"'A while' almost turned into an eternity because of that stunt. You do realize you were dead for several minutes? When they finally pulled your sorry hide from the ocean, you weren't breathing and they had to pump the water from your lungs."

Revan winced–at least that partly explained why it was so painful to breathe. She tried to sit up, but stopped when her ribs screamed at her. "You didn't heal me, did you?"

Jolee shook his head. "I thought you needed the reminder."

Revan glared at him. "Thanks. Nice to know that my healer has a streak of sadism in him."

"It's not sadism, it's teaching you a lesson."

"Really? And what is the pain supposed to teach me other than not to take deep breaths?"

"Your ribs may be broken, but they will heal and get better, if you let them. Everything eventually works itself out in the end."

Revan stared at him. "You cannot possibly be comparing some cracked ribs to me being the Dark Lord of the Sith. They are nothing alike."

"I think it is. Your broken ribs will heal in time as long as you don't aggravate the wound. And even though your identity is a bigger problem, if you work at it, that will begin to heal too."

"You're really senile you know that?" Revan leaned back against the pillows, carefully crossing her arms over her chest. "You're trivializing this whole thing. I've destroyed worlds and you think that this will just work itself out? I can't repair all the damage I've done. I can't heal the fracking galaxy with a giant kolto patch."

"Maybe not the entire galaxy. But you can at least heal yourself." She began to shake her head, but Jolee forged on. "The way I see it is, you're not Revan anymore. You may be in the same body, but you are different people with much different dispositions. Coming to terms with that is the first step."

Revan felt her throat close up. "I don't think that's possible," she whispered. "My mind is so destroyed, I don't even know what to call myself. My memories are jumbles of fictional events with real-life interludes. I can't sit quietly without phantom screams ringing in my ears. I've inadvertently betrayed everyone, including the one man I swore I would never hurt. The fact is, I'm a monster. I can't trust myself anymore and I sure as hell don't trust the Jedi Council, who lied to me. I'm a mess Jolee, for more reasons than one. Acceptance might be a bit beyond me."

The old Jedi reached forward and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "At some point in their lives, every person falls. It just so happens that your fall was a bit more spectacular than most and had some lovely veins and glowing eyes to accompany it. You're a mess now, but you won't stay that way for long. With a little help, you'll put yourself back together. I'm not saying it will be easy, but you won't be alone. Just as everyone falls, everyone learns to pick themselves back up again."

"Not everyone manages to crawl out of despair Jolee, some just accept their fate and let it take them."

"Maybe, but you're too strong-willed to let that happen. The day you surrender to anyone or anything is the day Vrook and I agree on something. It's all about taking enough time."

"We'll just have to see then, won't we?"

Jolee rolled his eyes. "You're too stubborn for your own good, I hope you know that. Now, you need to rest and think about the wisdom I have given you. Because if you don't think about it, I'll just keep repeating it until it sticks. The rest of us are taking care of reconnaissance, so don't worry your thick head about it."

Revan nodded minutely. Jolee got up and moved to the door. "Thanks Jolee," she said quietly. The Jedi flashed a smile at her before he left her room. She sighed and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She would think about his words after she took care of her ribs. She had barely begun to work on knitting the bones back together when a voice broke her concentration.

"So, you're awake."

The Jedi opened her eyes to see Carth standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. She closed her eyes again, futilely hoping that he would go away; she wasn't quite ready to face him yet. "Apparently. At least, that's what my broken ribs are telling me."

She could hear him moving to the side of the bed. After a pause, he spoke again. "You broke your promise."

Revan cracked open one eye to look up at him. "Excuse me?"

His hard eyes stared back at her. "You promised me that you would never get on a swoop again."

Revan opened both eyes to meet his gaze evenly. "And you promised that you would never condemn me."

Carth shook his head angrily. "That's different. I would never condemn Lethe. Revan is a different story."

"You want to play it that way? Well in that case, _Lethe_ promised she would never get on another swoop. _Revan_ though, never made that promise. Don't try and argue semantics with me Carth, I'm going to win every time."

He paused and she determinedly turned her face away, hoping he would leave. She couldn't stand that the man she had fallen in love with hated her. She shifted uncomfortably under his stare and winced as her ribs moved.

"Why did you do it?"

Revan gritted her teeth and glanced back at Carth, his face impassive. As much as she wanted to set things to right between them, she also just wanted to heal herself so she could pass out into oblivion again. "Look, I'm really not up for fighting with you now Carth. And I know how you feel. . .you probably want to be anywhere but here. So why do you even care?"

His expression didn't change as he answered her evenly. "I didn't come here to fight with you. I just want to know why you would take such risks and possibly throw your life away."

"Why wouldn't I? What would you do if you suddenly found out your entire life was a lie and that you were in fact, the scourge of the galaxy? Wouldn't you want to escape somehow? Get away from the pain and the guilt? I just used swoop racing to do it, one poison of many."

Carth nodded. After a moment, he sat down on the edge of her bed facing her. She watched him warily, wondering what he was doing and why he wasn't lashing out at her.

"After Telos, I existed in a black void. I was less than a man–I was a destroyed shell. In every mission I went on, I didn't care if I lived as long as I managed to take some of the enemy with me. I would still be like that if you hadn't come along and made me realize some things." He paused and Revan desperately fought against the hope coming over her–she couldn't handle it if he forsook her again. "When we got to the swoop bay, we saw the Selkath dragging your lifeless body out of the water. All I could think was that you had died because you had fallen into that black void I once was in and saw no reason to get out. And I didn't want things to end like that."

Revan kept her face blank, but she was having a distinct problem breathing–and it wasn't because of her broken ribs. "So?"

The pilot ran a hand through his hair. "So I want you to know that I'm going to try and work through everything. I just need a little time to come to terms with all of this."

She forced herself to breathe, despite the sharp stabs of pain. "But why Carth? I thought you hated me. Why are you even going to bother trying?"

"Because we can all use a second chance now and then. Because you stuck with me when I sure as hell didn't deserve it. And Jolee has been giving me some heavy lectures lately. . .they all have." He smiled sheepishly. "They've all accepted it–I'm just a little more stubborn than that."

Revan let a small smile come across her lips. "Just a bit."

"Besides, I know from experience that you need help to heal. Once I figure myself out, I'll be there making sure you get out and stay out of that damned black pit. I just need time."

She didn't trust her voice not to crack if she tried to speak, so she settled for nodding, hoping that he could see the gratefulness in her eyes. Apparently, he did. Hesitating at first, he reached a hand out and brushed his fingers across her cheek, like he used to every time she was injured. After a moment, he withdrew and rose from the bed. "Get some rest and heal your ribs. At the moment it looks like we're going to have to raid a Sith Base for something, so you need to be in top shape. We'll come and check on you later." He smiled again and lingered for only a moment before he was gone, leaving her alone.

Revan hardly knew what to do. Between Jolee and Carth and the turmoil in her own mind, she didn't have the faintest idea where to start. When her ribs twinged in pain, she figured that the best place to start would be to heal the physical. Later, with help, she would work on the mental and emotional.

She sank into a healing trance and tried to organize her thoughts. She still had friends and–Force help her–maybe even love. It was too bad that it took a swoop accident for her to see all that. _Never again_, she thought. _Never again.

* * *

_

All my thanks go to Trillian4210... she broke me out of my writer's block and then betaed this piece for me--I owe you one! As it is, this is the last installment of the series and I hope you liked it. I think I responded to all my reviewers, but thank you all again... I appreciate every comment! So please review and I'll get started on my next story...


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